Affettuoso
by swerveculture
Summary: "Why'd you stop?" Daryl asked softly from besides her. She turned her head to face him only to find he was merely inches away from hers. Her breath caught as she locked eyes with him, the most tranquil blue in a rough-edged man she had ever seen. Daryl discovers a gift Carol possesses and uncovers even more about his feelings for her in the process. Rated T for now for language.
1. Chapter 1

Hey everyone, this is another Daryl and Carol fan-fic. I do plan on expanding on this story, not my one shot (Bring Back 1985). Give me lots of reviews and suggestions, I love to see them. **Fight the dead. Fear the living. **- Ash

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It was summer. The air was stale and uncomfortable with humidity to make even Daryl's thin, straight hair stick up in places that made him huff in discomfort. You could inhale the moisture that hung in the air. The walkers that clung to the prison fences smelled more putrid than ever before. The smell was so bad the group decided to make it a daily task to pick them off the fence and burn the bodies every evening. While the threat of the Governor still existed, he and what was left of his henchmen had not been spotted for months.

The group figured they were regrouping in another location, gathering up as many survivors as they came across to brainwash and train for the next battle. The prison was ready for another onslaught. They had larger numbers now, had stocked up on more weapons and ammunition, made necessary repairs to the walls and fences, and had covered any exposed area in thick sheets of scrap metal and wood to give the prison the appearance of a fortress. Gun training was a must to those who were able to wield a weapon and defend their sanctuary. There were watchmen covering almost every side of the prison's perimeter.

Besides the heightened security measures, life within the prison resumed and an odd sense of normalcy was established. The partner system had been put into effect; no one was to go anywhere in or out of the prison walls without their partner on the defensive behind them. It was Daryl and Carol's turn to go on a supply run. They were running low on diapers and formula for Judith who was now starting to crawl around and gurgle the beginnings of vowels. Food was always scarce due to the influx of Woodbury members that had joined the group not too long ago.

The supply in the main storage unit was picked clean and now the daunting task of finding enough food for everyone in a non-perishable form was put upon the two. They decided to take the pickup truck, sticking supplies in the back of the cabin and the rest in the bed with bungee ropes to hold everything in place in case they encountered a hairy situation along the way back. Carl stood at the ready to open the gate, his face hidden under the shadow of his father's ten gallon sheriff's hat, but his frown was evident from any given distance. Ever since the new arrivals from Woodbury arrived he was in a perpetual state of misery, disregarding any communication attempted on the newcomer's end. To them, they were like rats that took up precious space within the prison.

He had grown increasingly solemn to a point where the only person he tolerated was Rick, but only in small doses. He was an irate and unpredictable boy that Daryl kept a close eye on as much as he could and Carol gave up trying to console and reason with a long time ago. The pickup groaned to life and Carol sat in the passenger seat, idly wiping the collecting dust off the dashboard. Never once did Daryl put in the effort to give the pickup a good cleaning inside and out. He always made the excuse of letting the wind pull all of the dust out of the car and rain as a natural exfoliant for the body of the vehicle.

It wasn't the smartest idea to keep the windows open while creeping around traffic on the highway or rolling through seemingly abandoned towns when the threat of walker herds coming from any angle could take them off guard. Daryl looked over at Carol who flicked the dust off her fingers, her face in a disgusted grimace. "Ain't no need for that. Jus' gonna get dirty all over again." Daryl grumbled.

Carol rolled her eyes, "Well, I'd rather only choke on the humidity than the dust devils in this car."

"Those only happen in the desert and that's from a big amount o' wind," Daryl countered with a frown, his eyes narrowing.

"We'll be sure to keep the windows closed then."

"Ain't no A/C, woman. That stopped workin' years ago."

Carol sat there staring at him in horror, allowing herself to blink a few times before facing towards the gate again. Carl fidgeted impatiently at the gate and Daryl creeped forward to let him know to be at the ready. The boy gave a slight nod and pulled the gate open as soon as the truck neared. Carol waved but Carl was refused to look up at either of them as the truck bounced over the uneven dirt path leading out of the prison. The sun hit the car in intervals as it peaked through the cracks of space between branches.

Carol kept her window open slightly to allow the sticky air to at least circulate within the cabin. The car ride was relatively silent except for Daryl clearing his throat once in the blue as if he had something to say and Carol looking over in anticipation only to meet his gaze with a confused squint. She let out a small sigh and looked out the passenger window and started to hum a Wye Oak tune. She dared not to let the lyrics escape from her lips and she could feel Daryl shift in his seat as she hummed louder, allowing herself to close her eyes and let the small breeze going through the car to caress her glistening face. If she ever hummed in the car with Ed, he would demand her to "stop with that fucking racket, Carol."

Daryl did not say anything, however, and she wondered if that meant he enjoyed hearing her hum. He cleared his throat and this time he spoke, "So, where do ya wanna stop first?" This took Carol by surprise. She had only recently started accompanying him on supply runs and he had never sought her counsel as to where to scavenge for supplies first. She didn't care all that much where they stopped first, as long as walkers didn't stand in their way.

After a moment she decided, "General store. See what we can gather there as far as baby needs and food and if need be we can hit the super market outside of town." Daryl, seeming satisfied with her answer, sped up and within another ten minutes they were parked outside of the general store. The immediate surrounding area looked clear, but Daryl exited the vehicle swiftly, crossbow at the ready, and did a quick sweep around the store before giving Carol a thumbs up to leave the truck. Carol made sure her handgun was tucked safely in her belt she had acquired when looting the local police station. She had an extra clip ready if need be stored in the back pocket of her jeans.

Her eyes adjusted to the sunlight and her body immediately felt weakened from the blast of Georgian heat that hit her as soon as she stepped out of the truck. She already felt the sweat begin to pool under her armpits and around her thighs and she itched to peel these clothes off her body and indulge in a cold shower back at the prison. Daryl stared at Carol for moment before jerking his head toward the general store, but something else caused Carol to become distracted and walk in the opposite direction of Daryl. "Where are ya goin'?" Daryl groaned.

Carol ignored the childish undertone to his question and pulled on the door to the music shop that was next to the general store. They were in a new location. The last town they sought for supplies had been wiped clean for the most part by looters during the early weeks of the outbreak. The group gathered what they could and mapped out the next town to scout. Many people found no reason to raid such trivial places so the music shop remained seemingly untouched.

Carol pulled on the shop door and a bell jingled overhead that echoed throughout the abandoned space. Acoustic and electric guitars lined the walls with practice and method books stacked on shelves underneath the guitars. Drum sets were pushed up against the back wall next to the sales counter. Any wall space that wasn't taken up by guitars were covered in concert posters from Woodstock to Bonaroo. Sitting in the middle of the shop were a collection of pianos and one in particular that caught Carol's interest.

She heard Daryl approach her from behind as she moved towards the baby grand standing out gloriously amongst the Casio's and Yamaha keyboards that surrounded this marvel. Carol had played since a young age and Ed had not allowed her to move her childhood piano into their home when they got married to continue playing. She had hoped to teach Sophia when she came of age, but Ed had quickly quelled this prospect with a firm beating after openly defending her desire to teach Sophia the art. Carol removed any hope of playing for own leisure let alone to teach Sophia among with many other prospective milestones in her life when she married Ed. Daryl followed her until she sat at the bench and grazed her finger tips over the dusty keys.

"Didn't know you could play." She could hear the smirk in Daryl's comment behind her.

She smiled to herself, "A long time ago. I'm probably rusty."

She poised herself to play and Daryl stood silently behind her, waiting for her to begin. Her fingers suddenly stiffened with nerves as she felt the urge to play the perfect melody on the first attempt to impress Daryl. Nothing had quite come as naturally to Carol as her inclination towards music. She was an auditory learner, someone who could listen to a song and play it back on the piano almost effortlessly. She nervously fingered a few keys up and down the staff to warm up and she felt a tingling sensation running through her body.

Her mind recognized this routine, although it had been a long time since she had played, and urged her to continue. Her fingers graced the piano keys and started churning out the beginnings of Yellow by Coldplay. She remembered the night she recited her first song, Moonlight Sonata, to her parents in their den. Her mother hummed harmoniously with the music that filled every room of the house and her father puffed his chest out in pride. Their daughter's weekly private lessons in addition to practicing for an hour almost every day had yielded beautiful results.

Her mother would request her to play the classics while she read her romance novels on the loveseat beside her. Carol narrowed her eyes in concentration as her fingers glided over the keys. She felt a rush of tranquility wash over her as the notes filled the space and the further she progressed into the song, the more the muscles in her arms and back relaxed. Playing was like riding a bike, once she got the hang of it she realized she never forgot it in the first place. She allowed herself to smile as she reached the chorus, her wrists thrusting upwards with every crescendo.

She became so immersed in the music she did not notice when Daryl placed his crossbow gently on the ground next to the piano and sat beside her on the stool. His shoulders brushed hers as he scooted closer and Carol jumped out of her music trance. Her hands immediately left the keys and folded nervously on her lap. She looked down, her cheeks crimson and her lips pressed in a thin line. "Why'd you stop?" Daryl asked softly from besides her.

She turned her head to face him only to find he was merely inches away from hers. Her breath caught as she locked eyes with him, the most tranquil blue in a rough-edged man she had ever seen. Her lips parted to form words, but all that escaped was a soft exhale. His eyes squinted slightly as his lips curled into the smallest form of a smile. His face glistened with something more than just sweat and his lips, although cracked, were the softest and most supple pink.

"Sorry," Carol muttered, looking down at her hands again.

"Ain't nothin' to say sorry for," he shrugged.

"I haven't played in such a long time. It'd be nice to have something to occupy my time with besides Ass Kicker and preparing food. I forgot how much joy I found in it, and that's hard to come across nowadays. It makes me feel liberated. Maybe that's why Ed never wanted me to play."

Daryl shifted uncomfortably in his seat and they both sat in silence for a moment. "So, uh, did Sophia know how to play?" Daryl asked at almost a whisper. Carol shook her head slowly, tears threatening to spill over onto her dirty cheeks. Of course Sophia had not been given the opportunity to learn.

If her prick of a husband had not allowed Carol to play why would he let his daughter? He snorted at the gal of that pathetic excuse for a human being and Carol reacted with a curious glance. Daryl slowly reached for her hand, shocked at how soft and delicate they felt under his rough and calloused edged fingers. He grazed his fingers over hers that made Carol shiver slightly. "She would have had the best teacher," he remarked, his eyes fixated on her hand, now intertwined with his.

She said nothing and he looked up at her, "Ed wasn' a man," his voice lined with venom. She was perplexed at his sudden outburst. Her shoulders brushed with his again and his eyes remained fixated on hers with such intensity she had to look down at where his hand encompassed hers. "That doesn't really matter now all that much. He's gone," Carol spoke at a normal volume.

Daryl could sense a lot of emotions behind those words, but sadness was surely not one of them. Her saying that alone attested to how much she had grown since the quarry back in Atlanta. She was a woman who proved she could hold her own and take back her life in this damned world after she had lost everything to call her own. Daryl gave her hand a small squeeze and said without pause, "Well that just leaves room for someone else to come in."

He immediately froze at what he had just said. Did he just flirt with Carol? He quickly released her hand and cleared his throat. From the corner of his eye he saw Carol smirking, eyes lit up in thought. Is that what she wanted to hear?

Daryl was besides himself, mentally cursing his actions with every name in the book. He had not noticed he was blushing until Carol giggled and prodded his arm. He opened his mouth to apologize when a sudden bang outside the shop window took them out of the awkward situation. Daryl quickly snagged his crossbow and Carol drew her handgun. He swore out loud as a walker clung to the window, snarling and baring it's blackened teeth at the two, noticing their presence in the shop. Carol whimpered as she gestured towards more that were making their way across the street towards them, their paces quickened and mouths gaping open at the smell of living flesh.

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To be continued.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you all so much for the encouraging reviews! The chapter is on the shorter side. And so the story continues... **Fight the dead. Fear the living. **- Ash

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"Ain't no way those windows are bullet proof and that means they ain't walker proof," Daryl barked, his crossbow at the ready if by chance the walker broke through the window. It was only a matter of time before more of them joined in. The walkers limping in the distance seemed spread out enough that Carol and Daryl could tag team and cover each other. It was no overwhelming horde like they had encountered at the farm, if that was the case they would be as good as dead, but there was a substantial amount of them that caused Carol to let out a whimper of fear. Thanks to Rick's impromptu gun safety lessons he had given on the farm, Carol felt more confident holding a gun and firing one than back at the quarry. When it came down to it, she had to rely on the only few members of the group that had guns to eliminate the threat while her and her daughter would scramble around to find refuge.

Knowing how to fire handguns and automatic weapons empowered Carol. The gun was an extension of the woman she had molded herself to fit into this cruel and unrelenting nightmare of a world. Reminding herself of this, Carol gritted her teeth, swallowed her apprehension and turned the safety off her gun. She approached Daryl at his side, "You think we can get out this door and take them down? I'll cover your back." Daryl hesitated with his answer, slightly lowering his crossbow in momentary thought.

He knew that the extent of her experience with walkers had been limited to a gate separating them. He wasn't sure if Carol would snap under the pressure of not having a barrier between her and those things to utilize as a crutch. Seeing her determined facial expression quelled any doubt. Daryl knew he was swift, he had gone through the motions over and over countless times, but Carol clearly needed more experience under her belt to match his pacing when dispatching walkers.

He curtly nodded, "I'll get the door. Once I open it, you kill that son o' bitch on the window. From there on I'll cover your backside. We can't let any of them gang up on either of us."

Carol made her way towards the door. The other walker had already started to limp over to meet them. Daryl moved around her to kick it open so Carol could fire point blank into groaning walker that made a halfhearted lunge towards her. It's head jerked back and the body fell backward from the close proximity of the shot. Looking around she saw a good dozen of them making their way towards the two.

She advanced forward, shooting with accuracy that even surprised her. Daryl's arrow whizzed right by her and lodged itself in a walker's head. It let out a gag before falling to it's side. Carol kept sweeping the area with her eyes to make sure the loud noises were not attracting more. Daryl took the initiative by dislodging the arrow from the fallen walker's head and moving forward to take down the others in front of him. All the while, Carol covered his side and did not realize it was all over until the moaning of walkers ceased and she heaved a breath.

She had been holding her breath this entire time and was not aware of it. She lowered her gun, hands shaking, and looked around quickly. The air was still and, more importantly, there were no walkers to break the silence. Daryl yanked his arrow out of the last walker he killed and turned around to give Carol an "all clear" nod. She reloaded with her remaining clip, switched the safety back on, and holstered it in the back of her jeans, praying she would not need to take it out again.

Daryl walked over to her and checked for bites or scratches, his hands roamed over her bare arms. It had to be almost 100 degrees outside, but Carol looked down to see goosebumps running along her arms where he had touched her. Finishing up with his full body scan, Daryl stood straight up and squared his shoulders to Carol's.

"You alright?" He asked earnestly.

She genuinely appreciated his concern and smiled weakly in response. "I think so."

"Well, for what it's worth ya did good," Daryl strained out.

Carol could not hold in the excitement that bubbled within her. Daryl Dixon gave her a compliment. That was not common practice by any means. "Really?" Carol's face brightened ten fold.

Daryl snorted, "Alright, don't get your panties in a whirl. Better get used to this. Alls I'm sayin' is you did good for your first time facing a bunch o' these."

Carol smirked in satisfaction, looking past Daryl. She did do a good job indeed. She had not wasted a single bullet, every shot had counted for a kill. Her head drooped as she thought of how if Andrea were there she would be proud. Daryl's voice broke her out of thought, "Let's move quickly. Don't know if more of them are comin'."

They made their way into the general store and picked up plastic carts that were lying around near the entrance. Carol searched for baby supplies on one side of the store while Daryl swept the floor for any cans of food that were left around when the shop was looted. She had managed to find a few cans of formula and a beat up box of diapers, but no wipes. She sighed as she tucked a role of paper towels and a small package of toilet paper in the basket.

Judith will not be happy with wet paper towels to wipe her bottom, she mused. It would have to do for now until they came across a store that was not completely ransacked. Daryl fared better than she had, triumphantly holding up a basket of canned green beans and soup.

"That's an odd combination," Carol squinted.

"Sorry that it's not a five course meal your highness," he snorted.

She rolled her eyes lamely, "You know what I meant."

"Sure," he grumbled.

"Do you think people would have thought to check the supply room?" She inquired, making her way to the back of the store.

"There ain't really supply rooms that come with these type of stores. Usually the owners just stocked the shelves with whatever came in that day. Didn' really order much in bulk since it's kinda a rural area."

Carol ignored him and drew back the curtain that separated the store from the back room. The sight before her made her gag in disgust. A walker had cornered a man and what looked to be his young son in the back of the store. A bloody knife lay in the corner, perhaps it was dropped and kicked in the scuffle. The older man lay spread eagle, his entrails strewn about the area with his neck bone exposed and the remainder of the skin on his face partially decomposed.

The younger man lay curled in the corner, his arms stretched out exposing the slash marks on his wrist. Carol assumed he tried to commit suicide while the older man was being eaten and, when the walker seemed satisfied, moved onto the young boys legs. All that was left was the white bone of his femur and partially consumed calves. Carol covered her mouth, tears springing to her eyes. She jumped when she felt a hand yank her away from the grizzly sight.

She walked past Daryl who released his hand from her shoulder and watched her snatch up remaining cans and toiletries. He could tell she was trying not to break down. "Carol," he murmured. She did not answer. He followed her as she blindly made her way through the aisles, ignoring him.

"Carol," he pressed, louder this time. She did not acknowledge him. He huffed and quickened his pace until he was close enough to grab her wrist and spin her around to face him. The moment they made eye contact she collapsed into his chest, letting the cart she was holding fall with a crash. He was taken back slightly, stumbling backwards a couple of feet before regaining his composure.

Carol sobbed into his blood stained shirt while Daryl stood straight and stiff, unsure of how to console her. He had never done this kind of stuff before; comfort a woman, let alone know how to comfort a woman. Giving Carol the Cherokee Rose when Sophia was still missing was the closest he had come to an act of kindness towards the opposite sex. It had been quite some time ever since Sophia died that Carol had witnessed a dead child. The sight of one probably stirred up unpleasant memories for her.

"Don't cry into my bloody shirt, woman." He lifted her head softly with both hands and laid it in the crook of his neck. He felt her hot tears pooling where his neck and shoulder met. He awkwardly wrapped his arms around her frail body. His muscles tightened around her figure and he slowly glided a few fingers up and down where her vertebrae protruded from her shirt.

He felt her slender arms mirror his own movements, gripping his shoulder muscles that flexed under her pressure. Their cheeks were pressed up against one another, sticking from the sweat and sharing each other's warmth. For a moment, the gesture made Daryl squirm in discomfort. Sympathy was not the Dixon way, but Daryl shoved such an insensitive side thought out of his mind. This wasn't any other woman, this was Carol.

She was damp all over her body with sweat and splattered in walker blood, yet she still managed to smell good. Daryl had to stifle a laugh as he made that observation. He hung his head lower onto her shoulder and took in her scent. "Carol," he murmured a final time against her neck and the tears subsided.

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Review below!


	3. Chapter 3

Hey everyone! Sorry for the slight delay in updating this story. I have been busy with stuff at home and work and what not. This chapter may introduce some conflict between Daryl, Carol, and another recent addition to the group. Let me know what you think! The story continues... **Fight the dead. Fear the living. **- Ash

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Daryl awoke with a start. He shot up from the stiff cot he was sleeping on, body covered in a thin glaze of sweat. He had a horrific dream that involved Carol. It was in the same piano store they gone to the other day. He approached Carol who was playing, but something was off.

Her fingers limply slammed on the keys, not even creating an audible melody. He called out to her and when she turned he backed away in shock. Her face was distorted and decaying; she had turned. Daryl let out a choked cry, a single tear escaping the corner of his eye, and watched as walker Carol rose lazily out of her seat. Daryl noticed the Cherokee rose he had given her hanging out of her pant pocket.

He pleaded with God to turn her back and woke up as soon as Carol made a lunge for his throat. He assessed his surroundings, his eyes adjusting to the darkness within the cell. His breathing steadied as soon as he could reassure himself he was still in the prison. All was quiet. He could faintly hear Herschel's snores from the cell next door.  
He swung his legs off the bed and fished around in the darkness for his shirt. Once he found it and threw it over himself, he rose from his cot and pushed aside the sheet hanging in front of his cell. Moonlight filled the space through the bars fastened onto the large windows lining cell block C. He crept past the other cells, making sure his boots didn't reverberate too loudly through the empty space. He peeked in where Carl lay sprawled out on his cot, his body trembling and muttering something Daryl could not make out under his breath.

Daryl leaned against the bars and watched him for a moment. Carl was already fair skinned, but the moonlight casted him in an almost decrepit, sickly state. Daryl squinted his eyes, straining to make out what Carl was saying in his sleep. He figured the kid was having a night terror judging by the way he squirmed and grimaced in his sleep. The faint mumbles grew louder as his flinching increased to a point where his arms started to flail.

"Mom," Carl cried out in anguish. Daryl contemplated whether or not to wake the boy. He made a movement towards Carl, then, as if he had sensed his presence, he became silent and stilled. His head lolled to the side and his arms went limp next to his body. His chest rose and fell steadily as his breath regulated itself once more.

Daryl quietly backed away and gave the boy a final glance before making his way past the other cells and down to the gathering area. He shook his head and thought, _Guess I ain't the only one ready the shit the cot._ He couldn't blame Carl for his grief to surface through his sleep. The boy never showed any emotion when he was awake and it was concerning for Daryl to see Carl show more expression with his eyes closed than open. Daryl reached the bottom of the stairs and noticed a faint glow coming from the next room.

There did not seem any reason to be alarmed, but Daryl found himself clenching the handle of his knife in his back pocket as he drew closer to the orange glow on the walls of the room in front of him. He crept forward and peeked into the room where a lone Carol sat on a bench reading a novel she had picked up in the general store. There were a stack of untouched Danielle Steel and Stephen King novels that Carol had snagged on the way out. They did not find enough supplies to fill the entire bed of the truck, but they had filled a substantial part of the cabin with the essentials they were set off to find. The ride back was uneventful and the pick up rumbled back into the prison just past sunset.

Carol was exhausted at that point, but that wasn't surprising for her first supply run and what they had to go through to attain the supplies. Daryl lied to Rick and said there was no trouble going to or back from the town and Rick responded with a questioning look. "We all alive and in one piece ain't we?" Daryl challenged. Rick backed off and went to look for Judith that was crying somewhere.

Maggie kept pushing Carol to lay down for a while, "We'll manage the supplies, you've already done the hard part." Carol did not object and gave a simple nod before turning and weaving past the others that were gathering around the supplies. She did not acknowledge Daryl as she made her way past him to collapse on the cot in her cell. She had been asleep still when everyone else had turned in and the people for night watch went out. "Get enough rest?" Daryl asked gruffly, his voice still in sleep mode.

Carol's face jerked up, apparently startled by his presence. Her sudden movement caused the flame from the candle positioned next to her book to waver. He could see her cheeks turn crimson in the candle light. "Uhm, yes." That was all she could manage as he moved closer and took a seat on the bench opposite from her.

He examined her as she struggled to continue reading her novel in his presence.

"Why you all squirmy and shit?" Daryl inquired, noticing Carol had not flipped the page for a while.

"You're kind of staring me down," Carol looked up from her book.

"No I ain't," Daryl snapped, careful not to be too loud, the sound traveled fast throughout the cell blocks.

"Really?" Carol then mimicked how Daryl was looking at her. She narrowed his eyes at him and her lips curled in a smirk.

Daryl scoffed and rose from his seat, turning to leave.

"Wait, I never said I wanted you to leave. I was just showing you how you were staring at me like a piece of meat." Carol giggled at the phrase "piece of meat".

"Now I know you ain't a piece of meat, woman. You're just bein' dramatic now." Daryl shook his head.

"Maybe not that then, but it definitely was a powerful stare."

Daryl snorted, "Thanks, I get that a lot."

"So why are you up?" Carol had put her novel to the side and gestured for Daryl to sit back down. He obeyed her request.

"Thirsty," Daryl lied. He wasn't about to make Carol his shrink and discuss the nightmare he just had. _Was just a dream_, he reasoned with himself.

"Well there is no water in this room."

"I know that, I wasn't born yesterday."

Carol let out a soft chuckle that made Daryl's heart throb in his chest. Damn this woman. Daryl wrung his hands out under the table.

"Was just wondering who was in here."

It grew silent again. Carol gave Daryl a weak smile and picked up her book again.

Daryl nodded towards the book, "That any good?"

Carol's eyes peeked over the pages, "Yes, it's a romance novel. You wouldn't be interested."

"Was never into books in the first place."

"They're just meant to pass the time now," Carol remarked sadly.

Another bit of silence fell between them. Carol put down her book delicately and stared at Daryl with concentration. "You're still here," she said rather bluntly.

"Yeah, I'm still kickin'," Daryl said, unsure of what she meant.

"Usually you wouldn't even bother to sit down and talk about books with me."

"You make it sound like it's such a bad thing." Daryl couldn't help but to feel a little hurt. Did she not want him around to keep her company in the early morning hours? Was she annoyed by his presence? He knew he was bad at communicating with people, but he didn't think Carol of all people would mind.

She had been putting up with his poor communication skills since her daughter went missing. He sniffed and broke her fierce gaze. What did she have to be angry at him for? He wasn't doing anything but sitting there feeling like a kicked puppy. He looked up to her once more, the intensity of her gaze had not faltered.

Daryl huffed, "Well I'm sorry to be a damn burden to your romance sessions."

Carol smiled, "You're not. It's actually nice. I enjoy your company." She put a good pause between each sentence before she said them. Daryl's hands unclenched and his shoulders drooped every so slightly. He wasn't planning on going to bed any time soon now that he knew Carol wanted him to stick around. He adjusted himself on the bench and watched Carol read on.

"Could you read it? Out loud?" Daryl asked sheepishly. He did not want to stop hearing her voice. Without taking her eyes off the page she was reading, Carol nodded and began reading out loud.

Daryl leaned in with fascination. The way Carol recited passages so effortlessly made Daryl jealous. He never raised his hand to read out loud in school. Whenever he was called on he read so slowly and stumbled on his words that the other students made mock snoring noises. He didn't excel at any subject in school.

He took Carol to be a book smart girl, staying in on the weekends to study instead of party. It showed through, her intelligence. She had the smarts that were not to be underestimated. A few minutes later Daryl heard a door creek open and whirled around to see Tyrese returning from his watch. Daryl gave him a nod that was returned with a smile.

Tyrese's gaze moved from Daryl to Carol and his smile widened. It was the kind of smile that you would see a person reuniting with their loved one at an airport. It made Daryl uncomfortable. Tyrese was a good man, but Daryl had not yet let his guard down among the Woodbury refugees. It took a long time for Daryl to warm up to the Atlanta group and it would take just as long if not more to start trusting the newcomers.

Glenn had accompanied Tyrese and waved to both of them while making his way back to C block to retire in Maggie's cell.

"You look like you're having a good time," Tyrese was speaking only to Carol.

She responded with a nod and smile, "I am. I have Daryl here to keep me company."

"That so? And what are you doing up Daryl?" Tyrese asked carefully.

"Thirsty," Daryl answered flatly.

"I don't think there's any-"

"I know," Daryl cut him off.

"Okay. Carol, do you want me to take you back to your cell? You're starting to look tired again." Daryl's fists clenched at the endearing tone of his voice. She wasn't a kid, she didn't have to be "taken back" to her cell.

Carol thought for a moment before marking the page where she left off and rising to meet Tyrese. She gave Daryl a weak smile, but he wasn't looking. He was trying his hardest not to pout and throw the hulking black man against a wall. Carol bid Daryl goodnight and waited for his response. When she received none, her and Tyrese's footsteps fell in sync with another as they made their way back into cell block C.

The pitter patter of their shoes echoed and Daryl stared into the dying candle. The wax had already pooled at the bottom of what was left of the candle. "He alright?" Daryl could hear Tyrese ask softly to Carol. Her response was inaudible and Daryl's head fell for a slight moment, realizing he was starting to get tired again. Rick entered the room to resume watch, rubbing the exhaustion from his face and giving a muffled greeting.

"I'll come with you," Daryl offered, looking down and noticing his knuckles had gone white from clenching them so hard. He blew out the candle and followed Rick, ignoring the "Goodnight, Carol," he heard from the other room.

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Review below for comments, critiques, and suggestions for next chapter


	4. Chapter 4

In response to Peta2's review: First of all, I want to thank you for your critique. However, I didn't really understand a good portion of it. It's one thing that you didn't understand her motivation, (keep in mind it was about 3 in the morning, she was tired, so she went to bed?) I don't think I wrote Tyrese as being rude and nowhere in the text did he command her to go to bed. Tyrese's character has just been introduced on the series but if the writers are going to make him anything like he was in the comics then you are mistaken with the assumption that Tyrese is a domineering character. He is very sweet, head strong, and ***comic book spoiler ahead* **Tyrese and Carol do have a relationship in the comic book before Carol commits suicide and he then moves on to Michonne. Not all plot points have to be explained in one chapter, but hopefully this chapter will provide some clarity to Carol and Tyrese's relationship.

Also, **FLUFF**

Enjoy and as always, **Fight the dead. Fear the living. **- Ash

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When Daryl returned from watch with Rick at dawn, Carol along with Beth and a couple of random Woodbury women he had not familiarized himself with were preparing breakfast for the group. He gave Carol a once over, she looked rested and invigorated. Her eyes were bright and her smile wide.

She looked up from the mess of a meal the girls were preparing and told Daryl she would bring his food to his cell so he could have something in his stomach before taking a quick rest. He harshly rejected her sentiment, "Don't need your damn charity." It won him grimaces from the other women and a wounded look from Carol. He stomped up to his cell, still fuming about last nights events, and jerked his sheet over the cell gates, automatically darkening his room. He collapsed on his bunk only to wake up a while later to find a covered plate of food waiting by his bedside. She had snuck in while he was sleeping to deliver his meal. Daryl sighed with guilt and gently raised the plate feeling the warmth emitting from the meal before him.

She even kept it warm as long as she could for him. He cursed under his breath and stood up to go apologize privately to Carol. He held himself back though, contemplating what he was going to say and how he was going to say it. Dixon men didn't do apologies in the first place. He never heard a genuine apology come from Merle or his father to begin with.

He sat back down on his bed, leaning back against the cinderblock wall and running his calloused hands over his face. He thought back on the events of that night. Her serene posture while she read to herself, the way her lips parted and came together when she read aloud to him, and when Tyrese came in and ruined the moment. He did not hate the guy, Daryl didn't spend a lot of time around him, but he knew from hearsay that he was a big contributor to the group. Rick turned to Daryl to validate the executive decisions for the better of the group, and Daryl couldn't help to feel grateful for where he stood among their team.

He was Rick's right hand man and he had no doubt his position would change any time soon. Tyrese had an air of confidence surrounding him, something Daryl had but could not be detected on the surface. He knew what he was doing, but Tyrese deemed it imperative to vocalize this self assurance. Daryl speculated he did this to earn a position of trust within the intimate Atlanta group. He wanted to show that the group's best interests went hand in hand with his own and a part of Daryl was impressed by his persistence.

The issue at hand was his growing fondness of Carol. Even before that night, Daryl had seen the two with each other consistently. Daryl took his plate to the opposite end of the room where everyone was gathered and silently watched Tyrese and Carol mingling among one another. Tyrese would sometimes crack a joke and Carol would laugh so hard sound would cease to escape her fully parted mouth, her chest rapidly convulsing and sharp intakes of breaths muffled by the laughs of others that would overhear the joke. Daryl wanted to make her laugh like that, but he didn't know any good jokes or jokes in general.

He did not need to tell anyone he was not a man inclined towards humor. He would spot them on watch together. Carol seemed so at ease in his presence. Her gun was at the ready but her body was fully relaxed. It angered Daryl to see Tyrese subject her to such a state of vulnerability.

That was not for the better of the group and it put a bad taste in his mouth to think she was so relaxed because she knew that Tyrese would let nothing happen to her. He huffed into his hands, _she should know I'd never let anythin' happen to her, too. _He wanted to give her the reassurance of safety that Tyrese did, but the woman was always so tense around Daryl and he did not know what for. He put her on edge for so many reasons, even sitting here trying to conjure up an adequate apology for her was putting him on his wit's end. "Carol, I'm sorry for that...stuff the other night before..." Daryl stumbled over his words, cringing at how pathetic he sounded.

"Carol, I, uhm, Tyrese is nice and all but-" he reduced his voice down to mumble, blurting out his unconscious thoughts at this point, "I can protect ya just as good as he can. I like it when you read to me and play piano. I like it when ya smile and shit." He slapped the back of his neck, _Smooth, dipshit. _He started again, "Carol, I'm..."

He let out a frustrated grunt and stood up suddenly, ripping the curtain away from his cell and marching over towards Carol's cell. He saw Tyrese emerge from his and walk towards him. He nodded and smiled at Daryl. "How's it goin' man?" Tyrese asked and stopped in front of Daryl. He did not have time for chit chat.

"Fine," he muttered and attempted to weave around Tyrese. He took a step to his right and blocked him, his expression turning to one of concern.

"Carol's worried about you."

Daryl rolled his eyes, "Didn't think she's been payin' any mind to me recently."

"What are you talking about?"

"You already know what I'm talkin' about. I seen you two growin' sweet on each other. I ain't a dumbass."

Tyrese looked confused at this point, "Never said I did. I don't know what you mean, really."

"Tell me you don't like her," Daryl snarled.

"I do like Carol. I like her a lot," Tyrese calmly explained, his tone made Daryl even more frustrated, "But it ain't like that."

"You make her smile," Daryl remarked with a jealous undertone.

"And so do you. Look, she wouldn't be talking to me about you if she didn't care. I can see it by the way she looks at you. You're too busy being all mopey and reclusive. You don't give her a chance to show you how much she cares."

Daryl didn't say anything because he knew it to be true. A part of him was deeply relieved her and Tyrese's relationship was nothing but platonic and another in disbelief that Carol harbored such feelings for him. He should not have been surprised by this. She made the effort to check on him at the farm, comfort him when his brother died, and covered his back at the town when they were surrounded by walkers. She did care, of course she did, and Daryl adored herfor that.

She was there when everyone else was too scared to approach him. There was something in there that Carol could pick up on that no one else could. She saw the immense pain he had endured during his lifetime before and after the world went to hell. She could not come close to empathizing the entirety of what he had been through, but she took her losses. Death was death, no matter how any of their loved ones went, they all came back the same.

Their pain culminated in having to watch a bullet or razor go through their brains, to permanently end the suffering. Daryl found solace in the one person that accepted his methods of grieving, who accepted who he was in general. He felt guilty if he ever made Carol feel like she was under appreciated. "I care too," Daryl defended softly.

Tyrese examined him for a moment, "Look, Carol reminds me a lot of my sister-in-law." Daryl raised his eyebrows, "Why?"

"My brother was an asshole. He was smooth though, good with the ladies, you know?"

Daryl snorted, "Sounded just like my own brother."

"He was a low life. Barely made it through high school, lived in my parents basement, went door to door selling kitchen ware drunk off his ass. He knew how to charm, he could spiff himself up no problem if he wanted to. That's how he met Liv. I had a girlfriend at the time, but when I first met her, as soon as I saw her walk through that door, I knew she was too good for him.

I loved her, and I loved her in that way too. I loved my girl, but Liv was the kind of old soul that I had been searching for before I met my girl. She didn't have any kids, but she had such a maternal instinct and a kind heart towards children. She had the strength and stamina to put up with my loser brother. He would get drunk, beat her, call her names, and she still stuck around.

She claimed she loved him, but she talked to me more than she talked to him. She wanted to believe he was everything he said he was to her when they first met. She got pregnant, was so excited to have her baby, then one night," Tyrese paused to let out a sharp breath through his nose, "He came home from the bar, blacked out wasted. He saw her waiting up for him, beat her and punched her so senselessly in the stomach she miscarried. I wanted to kill him, rip his manhood away from him.

She came to me in tears one night and I sat there and comforted her. I had split with my girl for a bunch of reasons, one of them being Liv. I held her then I kissed her and she kissed back. She looked at me then and I'll never forget what she said, 'I'll wait for you in Atlanta.' Then she left, left my brother and went to Atlanta to wait and start a life with me.

That's when I got drafted into the NFL, I let that get to my head so quick I had forgotten about the love of my life. During the early days of the outbreak, I managed to get into contact with her, my last redeeming chance to prove to her I wasn't like my brother. I tried to get into Atlanta to rescue her, bring her over to Fort Benning with me. I had ditched my car at that point and tried to run into the city, and then they bombed it. Right before my eyes I saw the city go up in flames and somewhere in there was Liv."

Daryl stood rigid, his jaw slightly slack. "I'm sorry for your troubles," not making eye contact with Tyrese.

"Everything I saw in Liv, I see in Carol. They're like two peas in a pod. I guess that's why I'm so gravitated towards Carol. She's my good friend, and you know what, I see the same look in her eyes she had that night when she left me when she sees you. That must count for something, buddy, must count for something."

Tyrese patted his shoulder and walked away. _I'm such a dick_, Daryl thought and made his way through the cell blocks and outside to where a few members of the group were lounging in the sun. He was still trying to process what Tyrese had thrown at him. He drew close to the gates, watching the walkers drool and snarl, clawing through the fence towards the few group members mingling outside, himself included. The number of stragglers that wandered to the prison were dwindling.

More walkers were dying of starvation, their supply of fresh meat running out. He looked over to his left and saw Carol admiring his motorcycle. He made his way over, Carol was running her hands over the sleek bars and leather seat made to accommodate two. "Who said you could touch my bike, woman?" Daryl teased, approaching Carol.

She rolled her eyes, "It's not like I know how to ride it in the first place." Daryl swung his leg over the motorcycle and motioned for Carol to sit in front of him. "Sorry about," he could already feel himself stumble over his words, "That night and recently when I was bein' a dick and stuff." That was all he could muster, but it was a start. He leaned forward, his chin positioned right over her shoulder, his lips next to her ear.

"Sorry for all of it." Carol turned her head slightly, sensing how close he was. His hands took hold of her wrists and pushed up against her back to make her lean in to reach the handle bars. He breathed softly on the nape of her neck and felt goosebumps appear along her arms. "This is the throttle," Daryl curled his fingers over her right hand.

"The clutch," he mimicked the gesture with her left. "It's okay," she breathed. He buried his face into her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her waist. Realizing how close they were and unsure of how Carol felt about his display of affection, he retracted his arms suddenly. He got off the bike and stood awkwardly to the side of Carol, "So that's pretty much the basics-" but Carol cut him off mid-sentence.

She swung her leg off the bike and stood in front of Daryl, staring at him intently. Daryl gulped at how close her face, her lips were to his. "Why did you stop?" Carol asked innocently. Daryl gave a weak smile, his hand drew up to caress her cheek.

She leaned in to his touch and closed her eyes. With another shaky hand, he put his other on the opposite cheek and rubbed his thumbs over the dirt that hid her rosy complexion. She opened her eyes then and he took that as an invitation to kiss her. He leaned in to rest his forehead against hers, feeling her staggered breaths hit his lips. He leaned in even closer, his lips hovering just above hers and she felt her body shudder with desire.

"You make me nervous," Carol sighed.

"Woman, you scare the shit out of me," Daryl muttered then kissed her. Her lips parted readily for his and their mouths fit together perfectly. He peppered her with small kisses before pulling away and smirking, "Now you got no reason to be hanging around that jock." Carol rolled her eyes and this time it was her that pulled Daryl in for another kiss.

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Finally, Daryl gets his game on!

Review blow!


	5. Chapter 5

Hi everyone! I know it's been a while since I've updated. Lots of interesting (for the lack of better word) things are going down right now including me having awful writer's block. Don't you just hate it when that happens? Anyway, thank you for the support, comments, and feedback you have all been giving me throughout this story. If any of you are still wondering at this point what the heck the title means and what importance it serves for the story, that will be explained in the next chapter. Keep in mind I haven't mentioned the governor at all, but he is STILL a very real threat to the group. Thanks for staying tuned in! **Fight the dead, fear the living. **- Ash

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Daryl took a miniscule sip of the weak instant coffee that had been prepared by Beth. He grimaced in disgust and tried to inconspicuously toss it aside, but with Beth in such close proximity he did not want to offend her coffee preparation skills. It was a beautiful summer day at the prison. There was an abundant breeze that drew out the group to the courtyard. The space was littered with Woodbury residents and it made Daryl slightly claustrophobic being in such close quarters with these strangers. He kept close to the people he already knew, only granting the others favors when asked or if needed.

Due to the lack of space, Daryl took it upon himself to be head of watch duty, relieving others of the tedious task. He found himself consistently going on hunts or walking the perimeter just to give himself respite. He glanced over at Beth who was chatting away with her sister; the coast was clear. He whistled a tune as he walked towards the fence where a couple of walkers milled about and suddenly doused them with coffee. He suppressed a chuckle as the dead grunted, momentarily stunned by the sudden spray of liquid, and threw themselves against the fence trying to reach through for him.

He turned away and walked back towards the prison. The girls were used to the walkers getting riled up along the fence and did not take notice to his juvenile prank.

"Thanks for the coffee," he grumbled, gesturing the mug towards Beth.

She smiled triumphantly, "You liked it?"

Daryl gave a thumbs up and walked away from the two, leaving Beth gloating of her progress, "See, I told you I was getting better with it."

"What is there to get better at? It's instant coffee," Maggie pondered out loud.

Daryl entered the prison. It was slightly cooler inside, but not marginally enough to beckon him indoors to the confines of his cell. He saw Carol cleaning up from breakfast and made his way over, taking a seat on the bench and watching her as she milled about collecting plates and utensils. She looked up from her side work and gave Daryl a smile.

"How was the coffee?" She asked.

"Awful," Daryl replied curtly.

"Well, it's nothing comparable to Starbucks but it gets the job done," Carol cleared the remainder of the dishes, threw the leftovers on the plate for herself, and sat across from Daryl, "What I wouldn't give for a vente macchiato with skim and ground cinnamon."

"English, woman," Daryl narrowed his eyes.

Carol let out a light hearted laugh. "Good coffee," she translated.

Daryl nodded and watched her consume her breakfast. She was always the last to eat of the group and usually the only one who ate alone on most occasions. It had been about a month since Daryl kissed her and since then the two were tiptoeing around each other like teenagers. His sudden act of affection did not go unappreciated by Carol, but he couldn't make sense of these new and strange feelings overtaking him. They had not kissed since in due part towards the lack of adequate privacy and because Daryl wasn't quite sure what direction to steer their relationship.

He cared for Carol deeply, but his natural protectiveness over her was quickly forming into something that was far beyond platonic. She would brush her hand over his on occasion which made him tense up. Physical interaction between them increased, but their encounters were always unintentional on his part. _Damn this woman_, he thought with frustration every time she walked past him, making sure to sway her sway her hips in a more exaggerated fashion. Every move she made seduced his mind and body and he wanted nothing more than to take her right then and there.

He had never felt this strongly towards someone of the opposite sex before. The quickies with women in grimy bar bathrooms or the cabin of his truck came with no emotional pleasure. His encounters were merely for physical satisfaction. He had no game in the first place either. Daryl tagged along with Merle, when he wasn't doing time, to the local bars to pick up women.

Merle would lay the stops on two highly intoxicated gold club dancers and throw one to the side for Daryl. Going solo, Daryl had no idea how to approach a woman he was remotely interested in and his lame attempts fell on blind eyes. Merle was always the smooth talker much like his father. Daryl was convinced that it was his father's innate ability to kiss ass that won over his mother who was unsuspecting as to how much of an asshole he was. Daryl credited his lack of experience with women to the solitary life he preferred over the well connected one that Merle led.

Jealousy was not a prominent factor in his decision to be a recluse. Daryl never aspired to follow suit with his big brother's lifestyle choices. Now, looking at Carol, he felt a pang of regret not taking at least some tips from his brother. Until he could maintain a firm grasp on these new, strange, and somewhat scary feelings, Daryl felt it necessary to avoid Carol at all costs. He wanted the moment to be perfect in his definition of the word.

"Perfect" was not a word thrown around anymore in this world. It made him think of Carol and only Carol. The sole perfect thing in this damned world.

"I uh-" Daryl started but caught Carol's gaze and stammered.

"Yes, Daryl?" Carol asked sweetly.

She was getting such a kick out of seeing him riled up over the simplest of facial expressions she threw his way. He was acting like a foolish school boy and Carol ate every moment of vulnerability up. She had never witnessed Daryl in such a fragile spot where every movement she made caused Daryl's normal stoic expression to suddenly turn panicked and flee in the opposite direction. He always threw out the excuse to hunt, to be on watch, to help Rick with projects, and Carol figured he was trying to distract himself.

"Gotta go on a supply run, I'll be back later." Daryl finally sputtered.

"Oh, hold on. Let me finish my food and I'll come with you," she offered.

Daryl tensed, "No, almost got yourself killed last time."

"Me? I think we did a pretty good job at handling those walkers," Carol shoveled the remainder of eggs into her mouth.

Daryl scoffed, "If you didn' go off an' pretend to be Bach we wouldn' have had that problem."

Carol stopped chewing and put down her fork to wag her finger in front of Daryl, "I would have stopped had you let me. You're the one that wanted me to keep playing."

"Woulda sounded even better if we weren't livin' in a place where sweet sounds like that can attract herds of geeks," Daryl crossed his arms in defense.

"Whatever, I say it was a successful mission either way," Carol replied, not mentioning the horrific sight the two encountered at the general store.

"So I'm goin' and you're stayin'," Daryl rose off the bench. Carol stood up and Daryl gave her a critical glare.

"You're stayin'," he warned.

Carol tried to hide her disappointment, "Then I'm going next time. No arguments with that."

Daryl smirked, "Well it's a good thing Tyrese and Rick already volunteered for the next one."

"Are you purposely trying to screw me out these supply runs? I can handle it."

"Can you just trust me on this one, woman?" Daryl asked impatiently, already walking towards the door leading outside to where Glenn was waiting.

"Fine," Carol called after him, her eyes fixed on his back until he left her sight all together.

He could breathe easy for the moment knowing that Carol was heeding to his plan. He nodded towards Glenn who signaled Maggie to be at the ready to open the gate. Glenn slid into the passenger seat while Daryl checked the bed of the truck to make sure he could fit what he wanted to get.

"So, tell me why I have to come on this run with you. I'm pretty sure we're set on supplies for the time being," Glenn glanced over at Daryl who remained silent for a moment before answering.

"Jus' to help me get somethin' we couldn't fit last time. Nothin' like a necessity, but something I know one of us could put to good use."

"Okay, so we're risking our skins for a luxury item?" Glenn pressed.

"I told you if you came I'd take your watch for tonight, right?" Daryl challenged.

"Yeah, but-"

"Then shutup. I'm doin' you a favor too. Don't test my generosity."

With that, Glenn did not object or speak for the rest of the ride. They rolled into town, no sign of walkers in the immediate area. With gun at the ready, Glenn did a quick sweep of the area, almost tripping over the dead walkers Carol and Daryl had not burned from their last visit. Glenn circled back around to give Daryl an all clear nod and they proceeded to enter the music store.

Glenn began to object as Daryl moved over towards the baby grand to inspect it's dimensions. "We came for this?"

Daryl looked up from his inspection, "You ain't backin' out now. Help me move this outside to the truck."

"What is this even for? Who is it for?" Glenn stood his ground.

"You keep yappin' and I'll just sleep right through your watch and just say I forgot about it. Either way you're here and damn best think twice before backin' out," Daryl growled, "And for the record it's for Carol."

Glenn raised his eyebrows, "She plays?"

"Why else do you think I'm tryna haul this big ass onto the truck? Sure as hell ain't for me," Daryl paused, "I dunno, she's really good 'n all. I think it'd be nice to have something to lighten the mood in that shit hole."

Glenn gave a weak smile in agreement. "So what's going on with you two?"

Daryl purposely ignored the question. "Are you gonna help me lift the damn thing or do I need to get a walker up in help me out?"

"You won't even be able to fit it out the door," Glenn reasoned.

"You right," Daryl agreed. He suddenly picked up a piano seat and threw it towards the shop window, shattering the glass with a loud crash.

Glenn jumped and frantically looked at Daryl as if he had gone mad.

Daryl sniffed, "Well alright now we really gotta haul ass before the geeks start lining up."

Both of the men struggled to heave the baby grand over ledge of the shattered shop window.

"I'm trying not to cut my leg on all of the jagged glass," Glenn struggled to even the piano over the ledge and towards the open bed of the truck. No walkers had assembled yet, but they both couldn't be sure it would stay that way for long.

"Don't worry about the damn glass and just lift this shit. We got a few more feet to go." Daryl breathed heavily under the weight of the piano. The instrument teetered unsteadily under their tight grips. He had to present it to Carol in the best condition possible.

It took a good and long push from both men to roll the piano up the metal ramp Daryl had scavenged at the prison and onto the bed of the truck. The piano fit snugly with only inches to spare. Glenn threw a few bungee cords over it for extra assurance, but both men knew that if they ran into trouble along the way the piano would be the last thing to worry about losing. Once the piano was secured in the bed of the truck, Glenn hopped down and inspected one last time before looking over at Daryl.

"Happy?" Glenn panted from the strenuous labor.

"Not yet."

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Comments, questions, feedback, concerns? Write them below!


	6. Chapter 6

Hey everyone, this chapter is rather short, but I know a lot of you were anticipating Carol's reaction. Hope this chapter delivers! I'll try to update once every week, and I'm getting the feeling this story is reaching it's halfway mark unless I decide to add an OC or kill someone off. Nothing's concrete so don't freak. Who knows what tricks I'll pull out of my hat.

I want to take a moment to thank all of my loyal followers who have reviewed this story since the first chapter, I appreciate your loyalty and continuous support!

Four for you **hanagirl, Peta2, HGRHfan35, Supfan, BLulcy**!

**Fight the dead. Fear the living.** - Ash

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The drive back to the prison took longer than anticipated. Glenn eagerly offered to take over behind the wheel for the trip back. Daryl gripped the driver's door handle, cocking an eyebrow skeptically. The meek looking Korean buckled nervously under Daryl's fierce stare, shoving his hands in his back pocket's.

"I delivered pizzas in Atlanta for two years," Glenn assured.

"This ain't a giant pizza," Daryl shot back, gesturing towards the gorgeous instrument crammed into the bed of the beat up truck. If someone had told Daryl a year ago he would almost bust his gut trying to hoist a piano up on a truck he would have put an arrow in their ass before they could even finish the sentence. Daryl's lips twitched at the thought. The man he was a year ago when this nightmare had started was now a distant memory to the new Daryl. He never figured he would feel weak at the knees for any woman unless they socked him in the groin.

"If you insist," Glenn lingered near the driver's side.

Daryl rolled his eyes and opened the door. Glenn hesitated to step forward, unsure whether Daryl was taking his time to get in or was allowing Glenn to take the wheel.

"Well, you drivin' or not?" Daryl tapped his fingers impatiently.

Daryl moved out of the way as Glenn scurried over to get in, but before he shut the door he looked back at Daryl who was making his way around the back of the truck.

"Wait, this has nothing to do with my race right?"

"Nawh, I ain't my brother," Daryl replied solemnly, slamming the passenger door.

Glenn silenced, he had hit a nerve. He nervously put the truck in gear and drove away from the music shop. The truck groaned in protest whenever it would bank up a hill and Glenn was careful not to make too sudden of stops. Daryl frequently glanced back to make sure the piano wasn't getting too banged up. He knew it wouldn't be in pristine condition by the time it made it back to the prison to be unveiled to it's owner, but he had a feeling Carol wouldn't give a rat's ass about sparse scratches.

They rolled into the prison before dusk, Michonne eyeing the piano in confusion as the truck sped up to clear the gate to evade nearby walkers. Daryl jumped out of the car, opening the bed of the truck and sighed, relieved to see the piano made it entirely in tact. He gave Glenn a nod of approval. Rick joined Daryl at his side, his gaze alternating between the piano and Daryl.

"What's this about?" Rick motioned towards the baby grand.

"It's for Carol," Daryl grunted as he hoisted himself up onto the bed of the truck. He slide the metal ramp over the edge. Rick angled the ramp to meet the ground and braced himself as the weight of the piano that descended down the ramp strained every muscle in his body. The baby grand eased itself off the ramp and settled on the grimy, blood stained pavement of the prison yard. Daryl wiped his hands on his pants and gave a grunt of satisfaction.

"I'm sure she'll love it," Rick spoke up as if reading his mind.

Daryl looked down, ignoring the pressing questions from Carl and annoyed glances from Michonne.

"You wasted all this gas to get a piano?" Carl snapped.

"Sure is nice though," Michonne countered quietly, examining Daryl curiously.

"Where's Carol?" Daryl ignored them, looking up at Rick.

"Feeding Judith," Rick answered and Daryl turned to book it towards the prison. He stopped suddenly in his tracks. Carol stood several feet away, Beth cradling a sleeping Lil' Asskicker to her side.

"Nevermind," Rick muttered from behind him.

Her jaw went slightly slack at the sight of the baby grand. Beth was grinning ear to ear and nudged Carol to go towards it. Carol put a hand over her heart and opened her mouth wider to speak, but no words escaped.

Daryl shuffled in place. "Got you this lady," jerking his head back towards the piano.

"I- I see that," Carol breathed.

"It's beautiful," Beth's eyes were just as wide as Carol's. Daryl knew Beth had some experience with the piano, he recalled her saying that her mother would give her private lessons after supper almost every evening before she passed.

Carol walked towards the piano, her steps slowing as she drew closer towards the instrument. She reached out and grazed her hands over the keys, the sound of random notes breaking the silence. Glenn had an arm wrapped around Maggie, both were smiling at the astonished look on Carol's face. Michonne's stoic expression softened and Carl's tense figure relaxed under his father's grip on his shoulder.

Daryl stood there reading Carol's every movement while chewing on his hang nail out of nervous habit. When Carol finally turned to face him her eyes were red and glazed over.

"You risked your life to get this for me?"

"I did, too," Glenn chimed in from the side followed by a pained grunt from a sharp poke to his side by Maggie.

"Weren't no walkers around to risk my life over," Daryl shrugged, not wanting to exaggerate his intentions to that extent. He never gave his life a second thought before going out that morning. Daryl had an itch that if it was only him that went off to town and was suddenly faced with a herd of walkers, being overtaken next to an instrument Carol laid her fingers on would not have been a half bad way to go. Before he could finish his thought he felt Carol's body pressed against his, her arms snaking around his neck. He slowly mirrored her movements, his hands resting on the small of her back and face nuzzling into her short hair. His eyes briefly scanned over the group.

Carol's sudden display of affection had caused the group to erupt in smiles and knowing glances. It was the first time he had seen them all sharing jubilance among one another in a very long time; Daryl could not even recall that occasion. The gift intended for Carol served an ulterior purpose. The luxuries of the old world were beacons of hope to it's survivors. It shed a light of nostalgia of the past that one day they could reclaim what they lost during this undead apocalypse.

Happiness could be found in the smallest of things, the faintest of music, and the reassurance shared between two souls that had lost everything they never dreamed of being ripped away from them. He looked in the distance, past the group, and at the fence where a few walkers had gathered. They clung to the fence but swayed back and forth in an almost trance-like state, looking on with empty eyes.

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Comment, critique, question, concern? Review below!


	7. Chapter 7

What's gucci everyone? Having a tough week, but I managed to get in this chapter which I'm pretty stoked about and I'm looking forward to seeing your reactions. The end of this chapter may come as a shocker or may not, but either way it's a game changer! This event will set in motion a series of events to follow that will make life a hell of a lot more difficult for our favorite couple.

Also! The **title of this story is explained** in this chapter too so let me know your thoughts on that as well!

**Fight the dead. Fear the living. **- Ash

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"When I was a kid I used to do that with my older brother Merle. Was a big field o' them right behind our house just past a couple miles of forest. Went out during the evenin' and waited past dusk to catch those little varmints. They'd light our way back to the house at night," Daryl adjusted his sitting position on the bench. It was past dusk, the last rays of sunlight peeking through the treeline.

Tiny flashes of yellow light littered the prison grounds. Summer was prime time for fire flies and Daryl recalled the anticipation of going out almost every evening with Merle to see who could catch the most. A young boy and former Woodbury resident Elijah sat next to Daryl on the picnic bench.

"How did you do it?" Elijah asked breathlessly.

Daryl had watched him for fifteen minutes run around with mason jar in hand swatting the air and quickly covering it with a lid. He yielded no such luck and finally gave up, pouting and jutting his lower lip out.

"Yah doin' it too fast, kid," he explained, motioning for Elijah to hand the mason jar over.

The boy obliged and Daryl stood up, walking out towards the middle of the prison yard. He looked up towards the guard tower to see Tyrese and Carol on watch duty.

They were both leaning over the railing, listening in on Daryl's conversation. Tyrese nodded towards him, amused to no extent and wearing a shit eating grin. Carol had her head cocked to one side, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Daryl Dixon is going to catch fire flies," Daryl could faintly make out Tyrese commenting.

"I knew he had it in him," Carol responded louder.

She leaned further over the railing in anticipation. Daryl directed his attention towards the fireflies whizzing past his ear and in front of his face. He looked back at Elijah who was also leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, jaw slightly slack. _Am I some kinda damn circus act now? _He walked aimlessly in circles for a minute, being aware of his surroundings and pinpointing where a good portion of the fire flies seemed to be congregating.

He stopped and lifted the jar ever so gently to eye level. Moments later the jar was aglow with the distinct flash of light that only fire flies gave off. He swiftly covered the opening with the lid and turned around to face Elijah whose words seemed to fail him. He heard a slow clap start from the guard tower.

"Bravo! Encore!" Tyrese praised from above.

Carol joined in, raising her hands above her head to clap. Daryl took a stiff bow for his audience and Carol stifled a laugh.

"Give me roses to throw at this majestic performer," Carol proclaimed.

"Alright, alright," Daryl groaned, swatting at them from below.

Elijah jumped off the picnic bench, running to meet Daryl half way.

"How'd you do it?" Elijah demanded.

"Ever hear the phrase slow an' steady wins the race?" Daryl questioned, handing over the mason jar for Elijah to examine.

"Yeah, but I thought that kind of stuff was all hog wash," Elijah shrugged, poking at the jar to stir up the fire flies inside.

"Merle used to bring them back to our house and put the jar on his night stand so he could watch them all night. When he finally dozed off and woke up in the mornin' they were all dead. He just trashed 'em and went out the next night to get a bunch and do it all over again," Daryl thought out loud, his eyes drifting past Elijah.

"But I don't wanna kill them," Elijah protested.

Daryl shook his head, "You ain't suppose tah. You're suppose tah to let 'em go."

Elijah nodded and stepped past Daryl to release the fireflies. They flew out of the jar and mingled back in with the rest of their comrades.

Elijah turned towards Daryl, an appreciative smile plastered on his face, "Thanks."

Daryl nodded curtly and watched as he ran back into the prison. _Nice kid_, he thought to himself.

"I see you're good with the kids." He whirled around to see Carol smiling warmly at him. Tyrese followed shortly behind, acknowledging Glenn and Maggie walking past to resume watch.

He bowed his head, shuffling his feet, "I guess."

He flinched when she reached to run her hand gently down his arm and proceeded to walk back towards the prison.

"Don't play out here too long, unless you want to hear another edition of animals gone wild," Tyrese warned, jutting a thumb towards the guard tower where Glenn and Maggie had already disappeared. Daryl snorted and followed the two back in, the smell of burnt pasta and meat sauce assaulting his nostrils.

"Beth, you could have waited until I came back in to start," Carol whined, the smell bothering her as much as it did Daryl.

"Yeah, but I figured you'd be tired from the heat and what not," Beth explained, stirring the pot of sauce vigorously, already given up on the burnt pasta sitting on a big plate beside her, "Just trying to lift some of the load."

Carol touched the girl's shoulder, "I appreciate it. Now let me help you before you get any of these poor hungry folks sick."

Beth shrank away from the pot, her head drooping in disappointment.

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Dinner was the usual set up. The kids were sitting in a circle wolfing their meal in a synchronized fashion. Carl was off in the corner prodding his food, ignoring his father's pleas to eat. Tyrese was cracking jokes to the older folk who doubled over and roared with laughter, sending their spaghetti flying in all directions with Carol sitting across from him, egging him on. Herschel and Beth were giving thanks for their meal and signing the cross.

And then there was Daryl, who sat on the stairs quietly consuming his dinner and observing the scene before him. When the plates were cleared and the children were sent to bed with the elderly, the rest stayed behind to chat over instant coffee that Carol had made despite Beth's protests.

"Carol why don't you play us a song?" Karen offered when the volume in the room dulled. Daryl had no idea why he stayed around for this long after dinner. He usually ate his meal and retired to his cell for the rest of the night if he did not have watch duty. He was entranced by Carol's jubilant attitude all night since his performance in the prison yard earlier. He watched the way she delicately removed the plates and utensils from the table and cleaned them effortlessly.

The way the water ran over her slender hands and how her back arched and flexed to scrub away any tough residue. His eyes danced over the curve of her pink, plump lips and the way they curled into a content smile, though her eyes told a different story. They were a thoughtful blue with a tinge of underlying sadness which Daryl was all too familiar with. He saw the same thing whenever he looked straight at himself in a mirror. Every time he made eye contact with Carol he was met with his own reflection of suffering from grief and buried hope for the future.

"I don't know if everybody would like to hear," Carol flushed.

"I don't hear anyone objectin'," Daryl suddenly chimed in.

The lot of people remaining in the room turned towards him. It was the first time he spoke since entering the room for dinner, many had thought he had followed his daily dinner ritual and already retired to bed.

"Come on, Carol," Beth urged with a smile.

Carol paused, turning towards Daryl who nodded encouragingly. She placed the drying rag down and crossed the room to where the baby grand was nestled into the corner. She took a seat and paused, poising her hands above the keys, thinking of what to play for this evening's performance. She closed her eyes briefly before grazing her hands over the keys and began to play. Of course Daryl did not recognize the song or any tune she had played prior for that matter. The dull roar in the room had ceased and all eyes and ears were on Carol.

Her hands gracefully glided over the keys, her lips pressed into a concentrated line. Daryl rested his head on his hand and, like the others around him, his body relaxed under the heavenly melody that seemed to resonate from Carol's finger tips. The atmosphere folded into itself under a contented blanket. When she finished the room erupted in satisfied grunts and murmured compliments. The room cleared out soon after, leaving only Carol and Daryl behind.

He had not moved an inch from where he was sitting on the stairs since dinner.

"Aren't ya glad I brought that over?" Daryl finally stood up, stretching out.

"A million thank you's still wouldn't be enough to express my gratitude," Carol said, "Not only for myself, but the others. I think it helps."

"Well sure it does," Daryl made his way over to Carol who moved her bench against the nearest wall so she could lean back and stretch her legs.

Daryl prodded at random keys, "You're so damn good at this, woman."

"Thank you," Carol said quietly, he could tell she was tired.

He looked down at her, "I just love the way you play."

She examined him for a moment and he felt his ears heat up. He looked away and back at the piano. He fingered a few more keys before letting his hand drop and go into his pocket.

"Affettuoso," Carol said matter-of-factly.

Daryl cocked an eyebrow, "What?"

"It's a piano term," Carol explained, "It's a tempo style. Affettuoso literally translates to, 'with feeling; in a loving, tender way.'"

"Yeah," Daryl breathed, "That's you."

Carol rose from the bench and Daryl squared his shoulders. His hand brushed over her shoulder and grazed down her arm. He interlaced his fingers with hers and tugged gently, pulling her in and grazing his lips over hers. He breathed in the sweet scent emanating from her lips and hungrily crashed his onto hers. Carol deepened the kiss and turned Daryl around to push him down onto the bench.

Before she could straddle the excited hunter a loud "Ahem" made them jump apart. Their heads snapped towards Carl who stood rigid and angered before them.

"Carl," Carol began but was cut off.

"You guys done playing piano recital? Judith is trying to sleep and I don't want her up all night."

Where was this sudden anger coming from? Carol furrowed her eyebrows in concern, "Carl, I'm sorry," she started but was interrupted once more.

"No you're not. You've been playing that thing ever since Daryl hauled it in for you, which was a complete waste of time and gas on his part, and what for? We don't need a damn piano, we have enough to worry about! What has it done for us?" Carl's fists were balled and his voice had exceeded a reasonable volume for this time of night, "It's just noise! It's noise to draw more walkers in and whatever other threat is out there!"

"I think your tone is more of a threat than this piano here," Daryl chimed in which only made Carl more enraged.

"Get your head out of your ass, Daryl! Help protect this place because right now it seems like I'm the only one who gives a damn about the fact that the Governor is still out there and we're all distracted by this useless noise!"

"Carl," Carol held out her hands in front of her to calm him down. Carl slapped away her hands and Daryl stood up to grab the boy, but he eluded his grasp. He strutted over towards the baby grand, picking up a foldable metal chair and slamming it up against the side of the piano.

"Noise! Noise! Stupid, useless noise! It was noise that got Mom!" Carl pounded the piano repeatedly, each time with increasing force.

"Carl!" Carol cried out and lunged at the boy, grabbing a hold of the chair, attempting to shake it out of his grasp. Daryl moved behind the boy to pull him away but was met with a chair leg to the face.

He stumbled back, pinching his nose that was gushing blood, "What the hell, boy!"

Carol could hear the sound of cell gates opening and muffled voices from C-block. Carl was besides himself, screaming and repeating the word "noise" while continuing to beat the piano keys, jumbled notes setting a rigid and horrific tone for the scene before them. Carol attempted a second time to pull him off the piano and then it all happened in slow motion. She lunged forward once more to yank the chair out of his grasp and Carl whirled to face her. She could see the red in his eye's and opened her mouth to console the boy until she heard a shot ring through the air and an unbelievable searing pain.

The words she was about to say came out as gurgled cries. She heard the faint _clank_ of metal hitting the floor as both chair and gun were dropped and Carl stumbled back in horror, realizing what he had just done. She looked down to see herself covered in blood and Daryl screaming her name before falling to the floor and succumbing to darkness.

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Reviews make me smile, do it! Write your review below and give me some feedback!


	8. Chapter 8

Hey, look guys, a relatively fast update from me! I know right, the temperature in hell just dropped.

If any of you were wondering the song Carol was playing before she was shot, it's called **Mad World by Gary Jules**. Look up the piano cover on YouTube. When I listened to it, I thought, 'Wow that's so The Walking Dead.'

Enjoy my update!

**Fight the dead. Fear the living. **- Ash

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Daryl was aware there were sounds coming out of his mouth, but the deafening ringing in his ears caused him to become disorientated. The blood dripping from his nostrils was an afterthought as the pop of a gun kept replaying in his head. His eyes suddenly flicked over at the horror stricken boy scrambling towards the corner.

"Look at what you did!" Daryl hissed through clenched teeth.

Carl's attention was fixed on the unconscious Carol sprawled out next to the beat up and blood splattered piano. He removed the sheriff's hat and ran a hand through his greasy hair, still in shock that he actually committed such an act against one of their own. Daryl's vision was blurred by tears and he screamed out for Herschel. The area became crowded with people awoken by the commotion and cries of shock witnessing the bloody scene before them. Everyone formed a circle around the three, throwing questions and concerns, but all fell on deaf ears.

Daryl crawled to Carol's side, inspecting where the bullet went through. There were sounds of struggle and a hoarse, "Move out of the way!" Herschel appeared beside Daryl, franticly looking around and asking what happened.

"Just help her, dammit!" Daryl pleaded, blinking back tears.

"The bullet went straight through her left forearm. She's losing a lot of blood, if we can help keep the bleeding under control she'll be just fine. We can't waste anymore time," Herschel examined Carol. Daryl did not leave a moment for hesitation. He made his way over to Carl and roughly brought him to his feet, slamming him up against the cinderblock wall.

"Take off your shirt," he growled.

Carl obliged and Daryl tore a piece off to wrap around Carol's wound. Rick ran in with Tyrese and stopped short when he saw the scene before him.

"Jesus, Carol!" Tyrese stepped in but was halted by Daryl.

"I got her," Daryl scooped up Carol and followed Herschel and Maggie towards Herschel's informal examining room.

Rick squinted down at Carol, blood already seeping through her makeshift bandage. "How- what- what happened?"

"Your boy," Daryl glanced back at a shirtless Carl whose face was buried in his knees, "Reckon he needed that release."

Rick stared at his son in disbelief. "I'm-" he started.

"Save it for later. We have shit to do now," Daryl shook loose of Rick's grip on his shoulder and exited the room.

Rick turned to address the restless and shaken group before him, "Everything's okay. Was an accident. Carol will be fine. You can all go back to bed and visit her in the morning, she needs to be tended to right now." Seeming satisfied, the group reluctantly made their way back to their cells.

Rick examined the beaten baby grand in front of him. The side was considerably dented from the continuous impact from the metal chair. The smooth, white surface was tainted by fresh blood. Carl whimpered from the corner he had retreated to. Rick knelt before him, cupping his head to lift and look at him.

"Why?" He asked in a simple manner that sent shivers throughout Carl's body. He could feel his father tighten his grip and grimaced from the pressure.

"I just snapped. I didn't- I don't know what came over me. I'm so sorry. I just don't want to lose Judith. She's the only thing left of Mom we have," Carl whispered, tracing his fingertips over his kneecaps.

Rick ran a hand over his face, pinching his temples to ease the oncoming migraine.

"That does not give you the right to shoot people. She's family too."

"I know," Carl sobbed. Rick took the boy into his arms, cradling him like a newborn. He felt hot tears rolling down his own cheeks as he reached over to grab his sheriff's hat and bestow it upon the boy's head once more. He patted down the hat to cover Carl's eyes and teasingly poked the bridge of his nose. Carl parted his long hair away from his eyes and looked up at his father in what only could be described as pure admiration for the compassion he had shown his son.

"Go check on Judith, although I'm sure Beth has already beat you to it," Rick stood and helped Carl to his feet. He wiped the remaining tears away from his face and sniffed, glancing at his pistol.

"I'll be taking that," Rick followed his gaze. "And before you go," he turned towards the piano, "Clean this up."

Carl nodded solemnly and Rick left him to tend to the piano with a soapy rag. He followed the sound of Daryl's impatient jabs at Herschel that led him to the examining room. Carol was still unconscious, but the excessive bleeding had stopped. Daryl was standing with his arms crossed in the corner, his brow glistening with sweat, gnawing on the hang nail jutting out of his thumb. Daryl noticed Rick's presence when he cleared his throat.

"Hope you had a good talk with that boy," Daryl narrowed his eyes.

Rick nodded, "I did. I'm sorry about this. You'll hear an apology from Carl too when he calms down."

Daryl stared at Rick intently. "He shot Carol. You don't think he's dangerous?"

"He's a boy and I know that's inexcusable, but he's had a lot pent up. As unfortunate as it is that Carol had to be caught in the crossfire I think he just had his release."

Daryl turned his head to spit.

"Really, Daryl? In my exam room?" Herschel scolded. He finished wrapping fresh bandages around Carol's arm and wiped his hands.

"The good news is that the bullet was a clean shot; I didn't notice any fragments when I examined her wound further. She'll make a full recovery and I've given her antibiotics to prevent an infection. The bad news is that the bullet tore through the muscle in her forearm. She'll need rehabilitation, because I have a feeling she won't be able to use her left hand otherwise. Those muscles in her forearms are connected to her fingers. I already know some exercises she can start practicing once she is off bed rest."

Rick nodded slowly, relieved that Carol would make a full recovery from his son's act of rage.

"I hope she'll understand," Rick lamented.

"I'm sure she will," Herschel reassured. He then turned towards Daryl, "I know you already volunteered to watch her while she's on bed rest, but she's not in a coma. She won't need that much supervision. You should get some rest."

"I will," Daryl brushed him off. He made his way to Carol's side, hovering over her in concern. Herschel patted Carol's forehead and hobbled out back to his cell, his work was done for the night. Rick followed suit but not before Daryl's gravely voice stopped him.

"I hope you took his gun away from him."

Rick did not turn to face him, but he knew he was watching. He nodded curtly and walked out, leaving Daryl alone with Carol. His eyes traveled down her body, head to toe. He lifted a shaking hand to graze her cheek and gently pecked her forehead. Herschel had already covered her with a blanket and tucked an extra pillow under her head.

He lifted the blanket off of her, rolled it into a ball and tucked it in the corner of the bed. He slipped both hands underneath her miniscule form and lifted her bridal style off of the bed. He was sickened by how light she was, a mere toothpick. He shook his head, _Damn woman, always saving the scraps from dinner for herself_. He thought carrying her out of the room to his own cell would be a delicate task to undergo.

Much to his surprise, he probably could have skipped out of the cell holding Carol above his head with one hand without the fear of dropping her. He laid her down on his cot, making sure to tuck another pillow under her wounded arm for added support. He tucked her in, his body hovering over her form. He watched her chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. Everything about her was musical, even the way she breathed.

Everything she did had it's own rhythm, her voice was the perfect pitch, her words formed into a beautiful melody, her body the instrument he desired to strum and glide his hands over for hours on end. Had the bullet hit only centimeters to the right, it would have severed a major vein and there would be nothing Herschel could have done for her. He laid on his side, propping himself up on his elbow and reflected on how he would have handled a situation like that. For one, he would not have let Carl get away unscathed. It all happened so fast, and to think he could have lost Carol without taking the opportunity to express his feelings for her, to "make it official" as the chicks referred to it.

Once he saw her body hit the cold floor he knew it was all over. Once he found a pulse, she had inadvertently flipped a switch inside Daryl's head. She had to know as much about Daryl as she could before they died. She could not leave this world without knowing the man that adored her inside and out. He knew he could always confide in Carol because she could keep secrets and the undivided attention she gave him was free of judgement.

He already trusted her with so much, and she had to have a reason to trust him with her life. He came close to failing this time, but he would not let her leave his sights from this moment forward. In order for her to trust him he had to reciprocate the efforts by opening himself up to her. He laid his head down finally, his eyes still fixated on Carol's peaceful form.

"I know you can hear me," he started softly. Of course she did not respond and Daryl did not want her to awake. "Even with a hole through your arm, I think you look nice."

He paused, "I don't think you know this, but I accidentally shot Merle in the ass when I was younger." Daryl chuckled, the memory bringing itself fully forward. "You shoulda seen the look on his face. He taught me how to shoot. He started me off with a bebe, then moved straight on to a rifle..."

Daryl continued on and Carol did not stir. He spoke of his brother, brought up his mother, and briefly mentioned his father. That would be another topic of conversation that would require more showing than telling, becoming painfully aware that at some point he would need to show her the marks and scars covering his back. He talked and talked and talked until his eyes began to droop, catching sight of Carol's lips curving into a slight smile before sleep overcame him.

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Review below!


	9. Chapter 9

Sorry for the late update. Been busy with life and such. I'm leaving for Spain on Thursday so I won't be updating for a while. Hopefully this update will be enough to hold you all off until I come back to the states.

In the meantime I'd really like some feedback on the pacing of the story and development of Daryl and Carol's relationship. What would you like to see more of, less of, or am I doing things just right? Let me know in your reviews.

Happy summer everyone!

**Fight the dead. Fear the living. **- Ash

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Carols eye's fluttered opened, her vision cloudy as it adjusted to the light streaming in through the room. She slowly turned her head to the side, taking in her surroundings. This was definitely not her cell. Although no one had the means or time to decorate their cells, Carol could tell just from the smell that this was a man's bed. It smelled of men's soap and wild game.

It was a peculiar combination that could only belong to Daryl. During her deep sleep she had dreamed of him sitting in a field with her. He was dressed more formal than Carol had ever seen, blue jeans that were not ripped and a clean cotton t-shirt. They were sitting crossed legged in front of one another, as if they were children confiding their juvenille secrets. He was telling her stories, his eyes searching hers eagerly.

He was seeking solace, and although she could not remember everything he had told her, she caught herself smiling at the things he said. The mystery man was finally starting to creep out of his shell. He was not laying beside her when she awoke to Carol's dissapointment. She would be silly to believe the hunter would allow their bodies to be at such a close proximity for an extended amount of time. She felt a throbbing pain in her arm and looked down to see a clean bandadge wrapped around her forearm.

The events of the previous night suddenly hit her and she hastily unwrapped her bandage to assess the damage. Her hand instinctually covered her mouth. So it wasn't a dream, she did get shot. Something else was wrong, she could not bend her fingers. They weren't numb from novacane she just could not make them curl the slightest bit.

_I can't use my left hand_, she thought as the lump in her throat grew larger. _To think a little boy did this_, her thoughts wandered to Carl. A part of her wanted to be appalled at his behavior last night, a good part of her actually was. Another part of Carol felt sympathetic with the boy who had been living a nightmare since his mother's sudden death. _But we've all been through hell and back_, her mind hastily countered.

Her left hand was incapacitated and this only heightened Carol's vulnerability in a life or death situation. Maybe this was a sign. Tears sprung to her eyes and the lump in her throat gave way to a choked sob. She buried her face in her hands, tears seeping between her fingers. Maybe this was a sign of her fate to come.

Sophia's face came to mind and the uncontrollable sobbing momentarily ceased. She could imagine her daughter awaiting her at the gate of heaven, arms outstretched and beckoning her forward. That would be a literal dream come true, but Sophia would want her to keep fighting for a life she frequently contemplated was worth living.

"Look, she's up," His voice snapped her out of her daydreams. Carol looked up to see Carl being shoved into the cell by Daryl. She could tell the boy had been abruptly dragged out of his bed. He quickly rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and made a motion to flatten his tousled hair.

"Ain't no need to look pretty when you're talkin' to a person who has a gaping hole in them," Daryl growled impatiently. Carol could tell Carl had been upset all night due to the enormous bags under his eyes.

"Carol," Carl started eyeing her dressed wound, "That wasn't me last night. Either way, I lost my temper and what I did was all my fault. I don't have any excuses. I'm sorry about your hand and the pain I put you in. You're family and family shouldn't hurt one another. I'm so sorry."

Carol's gaze followed Carl's to her wound. Herschel could only help so much, but he had done a wonderful job tending to her. God knows what the group would do without that man.

"That's one out of a hundred more apologies you'll be making," Daryl took Carl by the shoulder and guided him out of the cell before Carol could respond, "Your old man is waitin' outside for you to start workin' off your punishment."

Daryl appeared at the entrance of her cell a moment later.

"How you feelin'?" He crossed his arms and leaned against the bars.

"Fantastic," Carol replied sarcastically.

"Don't worry, Rick and I will make sure he sweats that anger off. Took away his gun," He narrowed his gaze, "Still don't take away that." He gestured towards her banadage and tears sprung to Carol's eyes before she had a chance to repress them.

Daryl walked over and sat beside her on the bed.

"It's gonna be fine, angel," Daryl encouraged. She noticed it was the first time he had used a term of endearment. She blushed at the flattery.

"Herschel's gonna come in as soon as he wakes up and check on that for ya," he gave her shoulder a reasurring squeeze and glided his hand down her back.

"Thank you," She whispered.

"For what?"

"I don't know. I just feel like I have to say thank you."

"Ain't nothin'," he brushed it off, "Jus' glad you're okay."

She craned her neck to meet his eyes that held the upmost sincerity in them.

He managed a tight smile, "You look like hell."

Carol stiffled a laugh, "You know your way with the ladies."

"Least I'm bein' honest. Ain't that suppose to be important in a relationship?" Daryl stood up and muttered he was going to hunt and left.

Relationship, she mused with a small smile. Daryl Dixon used the word "relationship". After she concluded the temperature in hell had substantially dropped, Carol swung her legs out of bed and was relieved to see those were fully operational.

Herschel hobbled in a few minutes later, "Good morning, Carol."

"Good morning," Carol warmly regarded.

"I owe you for all of this," Carol raised her wounded arm and Herschel waved it away.

"Well, you being out cold helped my case. Let me check that bandage," Herschel dragged a foldable chair over to her bed and sat down, taking her arm in his hands and inspecting it.

"We'll replace the bandage in a couple of hours. Carol, the good news is that you will be able to reuse your left hand again, but it won't be overnight." Herschel explained.

Carol was mentally leaping with joy, this was spectacular news.

"I would like it if you took some bed rest though," Herschel continued, "It's healing wonderfully, but I don't want to take the risk. Can you do that?"

Carol's head drooped slightly in dissapointment, "Yes, I can."

"I'll bring you some reading material in the meantime," he offered. He stood up to grab his crutches and leave, "Daryl was worried sick about you. I've never seen him so tense. He's a good man, not that I had any doubt he was." Carol nodded and with that he left.

Later that night, Carol had passed out reading the mystery novel Herschel had given her. She had attempted to bring her empty dinner plate back to the mess hall but Beth scolded her, commanding her to abide by Herschel's bedrest rule. Laying there, feeling useless in that cell drove Carol crazy. Daryl was on the hunt all day and by the time he came back everyone was just situating themselves into bed. He slapped his chain of squirrels on the dinner table and rushed up the stairs to see her. He stopped in his hurried tracks as soon as he got to her cell.

He smirked at the sight of her sleeping form. He crept over to her bed and raised the sheet over the bars to offer them privacy. He slipped her shoes off and tossed them in the corner and raised the sheet over her. He bent to take off his boots and placed them next to the bed and hoisted himself onto the top bunk. A moment later her sleepy voice broke the silence.

"You're too far away."

He did not need further persuasion. He joined her side and was not sure what to do next. It was different when she was actually in a conscious state. She nuzzled her head into his neck and her breathing turned slow and steady soon after. Once he was sure she was alseep he began talking again, like he did the other night.

He told her stories of the first hunting trip he went on with his brother, going into such detail he fell asleep mid-sentence with an arm gingerly wrapped around Carol's waist. She did not awake to his murmurrings, but Carol found herself back in the field with him, and this time he was holding her like he would never let go.

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